


Holes

by Chaebol



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Minor Character Death, Past Rape/Non-con, Period-Typical Racism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 11:19:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12275355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaebol/pseuds/Chaebol
Summary: No matter how many times he tries, he can never erase these memories from his mind.





	Holes

_"Rick-y, c'mere boy." his father beckons him, with a long arm outstretched towards him._

 

_The little boy shakes his head vigorously. He lowers his gaze, eyes meeting the creaking floorboards that have weathered with age. His living room feels so much smaller, with a huge chunk of space taken up by the tall man standing before him. The lights that hang from the ceiling aren't helping at all- his father's head covers most of the light shining on him, like a looming eclipse over an obviously terrified ancient civilization. His tiny frame trembles ever so slightly from the anxiety he feels in his heart- he's always been a rather frail boy ever since he could remember being made fun of for it. Gammy told him that he picked up his sickly physique from his mother, and he's always felt conflicted about it ever since. Not that it matters right now anyway, since He's here._

 

_"Geez, Rick. I ain't gonna hurt you, you know that." His father says, with a sigh._

 

_The young boy looks up at his grandmother, searching her eyes for any signs of giving in to his father's calm demeanor. Gammy has always been fond of him, and he's always resented her for it._

 

_"it's his fault that mom isn't here anymore."_

_"Pumpkin, no one knows that."_

  
_His knuckles begin to turn pale, holding onto his tiny suitcase with all of his might. He's terrified at the aspect of seeing his father at his grandma- HIS home's doorstep with open arms. The thought of intimacy with this man before him disgusted him beyond all reasoning._

 

_You know your father won't do you any harm."_

_Liar._

_"It's just going to be awhile, you need to grow up with at least one of your parents."_

_I knew I couldn't trust her._

 

_"Don't be afraid, I'm always here for y-"_  
_"Gammy, don't let me go_... _please! Don't let him take me away from you!"_

 

_Little Rick weeping slowly turns hysterical as he kicks a fuss up- his futile shouts turn into screams that awaken the neighbors on the entire floor. The Russells children peek through the doorway, watching the weirdo from the community playground flit about in a panic- they feel completely horrified rather than amused this time around. The others begin to complain and shout, telling the Sanchez's to shut up because it's 4.00 in the morning. The atmosphere begins to feel so tense, Rick feels as if he could just explode into a million pieces. The faces of his usually amicable neighbors are scrunched up into snarls, eyes are fierce as the dogs that once chased him back from school and shouts as loud as the ones he already get from-_

 

_Rick's primal instinct were to run away, just to anywhere if he could just figure out an exit-_

  
_"Joel."  She deadpans. "He needs to go. I'm sorry, you'll just have to grab him if you have to."_

_"Polly, you can't be serious-"_

 

_She kicks Rick from the back, and he falls into his father's arms and onto the floor. They stare at her in disbelief and for a moment, the entire ruckus comes to a halt. The neighbors stop their shouting and watch the series of things that happen before them in a state of stupor._

 

_"I don't fucking give a shit if you think I'm being serious or not Joel. I don't have time to be taking care of YOUR child- I didn't sign up for this shit. I only did it because Cliona was working herself into the ground to support your stupid workshop and Rick's education, in which he's failing all of his classes. Now that she's gone, both of you can scram out of here. I don't need none of you Sanchez breed near me ever again- you fucking Mexicans."_

 

_Rick doesn't know whether his back hurts or whether his brain just got the pounding of a lifetime. He turns to look at his father, who slowlys picks the small boy put with one arm and Rick's little suitcase with the other. He points at the small box of gadgets Rick created and Polly passes it to him wordlessly. He manages to balance everything with his two arms and makes his way across the hallway, nodding at the neighbors he walks past and mutters apologies for disrupting their morning._

_Joel Sanchez turns to look at Rick apologetically as he holds his son and his belongings quietly in the lift as it brings them down to the basement. He spots his faded grey Toyota Camry in the corner of the parking lot and walks towards it, with Rick clinging his arms around his father's shoulders. He sets the small boy down onto the uneven floor and rummages through his pockets for his keys. He unlocks his bonnet and loads what little possessions Rick owns, and sets the boot shut once more. He opens the door for Rick and makes sure that his little patchwork lab coat isn't caught between the door, and he slips in quietly next to him behind the steering wheel._

_The two of them sit in silence. Joel rests his head against the wheel for a few minutes and then turns the ignition on._

_They drive off into the night without anywhere in particular to go._

 

* * *

 

 

He's lost the count of hours he's gone on his drive with the space cruiser.

Surely it isn't a highway in Detroit in December, where snow collected on top of lamp posts- which you could only see if you actually stopped to look at it. He only remembers a little of that night after they left his grandmother's flat.

Except that after his father filled up his car's tank, he takes little Rick on a walk on the deserted highway, curling his hands and spinning around icy lamp posts as if that's supposed to be fun. 

 

"He was like a kid." He thought to himself, rather numbly.

 

* * *

 

_"Now listen here, Rick. I ain't telling you this to have a general distrust of the world after what just happened." His father puts it rather flatly. Rick nods solemnly in response._

 

_"In life, the people you love will make choices that you won't understand but will have to accept. Maybe they prioritize different things than you do, and people change just like that when they're put in a spot. Stuff that comes out of their mouths are probably things they've resented and repressed for a long time- but it doesn't mean that they're actually that bad of a person. Things like race or gender are sensitive topics that most people get really upset about, though we try to be as tolerance and kind about it as much as possible."_

 

_Rick looks at his father's face with suspicion in his eyes. Joel laughs mild-manneredly._

 

_"One day you'll understand what I mean. Hey, you hungry?"_

_"Yeah... dad."_

 

_Joel smiles and ruffles his hair._

 

_"Not too late for a Christmas dinner, right?"_

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Just don't fucking trust *Burp* anybody."

 

Rick takes a swig from his flask, stretches and curls up in his leather cruiser seat. 

The stars continue twinkling like lamposts on long winding roads in the middle of a dark and unforgiving winter.


End file.
